


Forever Doesn't Mean Always

by writteninbechloe



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Depression, Excessive Drinking, F/F, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninbechloe/pseuds/writteninbechloe
Summary: Two years after graduating, Beca finds herself in LA, the place she's dreamed of since she was a teenager, yet she's completely miserable. She no longer cares about her aspirations for the music industry, the only thing she wants now is to be happy. And she knows that her only chance at happiness is back in new York with Chloe. So when Amy drags her to a Bellas Reunion, Beca grips onto what she really wants.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Aubrey Posen, Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Fat Amy & Beca Mitchell
Comments: 19
Kudos: 56





	1. Forever My Ass

As her toes get nearer to the edge, her breathing quickens, causing her heart to hammer in her chest.

She can feel the tears building at her eyes, fogging her sight. She needs to think – and see – clearly, so she blinks twice, a couple of stray tears falling down her cheeks.

Her hand reaches up and runs through her matted hair. Now that she thinks about it, it's not been brushed – or washed – since Friday. She hasn't left her apartment since then so there's been no reason for her to shower or dress presentably.

Her outfit over the weekend hasn't changed, she's had on the same grey sweatpants and hoodie for the past three days.

Beca looks down at her feet, staring as they get closer to the edge of the balcony. She's six floors up so it's quite a journey down. Her landing will definitely not be pleasant.

She grips harder onto the railing with her right hand, shuffling her entire body forwards slightly.

The fight or flight response kicks in and causes adrenaline to run through her blood, and she's more alert than she's been all week. The lack of sleep and hours of crying adds to her exhaustion. But right now, in this moment, she's _awake_. More awake than she's felt in months.

As she looks down at the city below her, the lights illuminate and shine upwards, some of them nearly blinding her if she stares at them for too long. The city around her is so full of colour and people, yet this is the most alone she's ever felt.

Should she fight it?

The pain isn't going anywhere, but it's been here for months and everyday she's breathed through it, granted some of those days have been spent curled up in bed with a bottle of whiskey, but no matter what, she's gotten through it, because she has to...right?

The pain is almost unbearable, and every day it exhausts her even more, ripping parts of her away. Soon there will be nothing left. But she has to get through this, she has to fight with every bone in her body until she's consumed entirely by her feelings.

Beca is not one to give up, she's stubborn as hell and that explains why she hasn't reached out to anyone for help, but there is no way she's giving in, she can't do that – she won't. Because giving in – giving up – is exactly what everyone else that has ever entered her life has done. Everyone has given up on her. Her Dad. Her Mom. Jesse.

And Chloe.

Even Chloe gave up on her. The girl who forced her way into Beca's life and tore down her walls that she spent years building up. She promised she was here to stay, promised that she would never leave as long as Beca wanted her there.

' _Forever, Becs. What we have is forever. I'm not going anywhere._ '

Beca lifts her hand to her chest, pulling on the chain from around her neck. Her eyes drop to the ring hanging from the silver chain and her breath hitches in her throat. She can feel the sob building up in her chest but keeps shoving it down.

It's a simple platinum band, with the words ' _B &C_' engraved in the metal along with a small heart and ' _forever_ '. Not so long ago the ring was gifted to Beca as a promise ring – a promise that what they had really was forever, that Chloe loved her and was willing to love and care for her until the end of time.

Beca had given one to Chloe in return, a titanium ring with similar engravings, instead of 'forever' the word _'always'_ was carved onto the metal band.

Her hand is a little shaky as she lifts the ring to her lips, but proceeds to still her hand, then press a gentle kiss to the ring, wishing more than anything that a certain soft pair of lips were meeting hers.

"Forever my ass." Beca mumbles as the ring slips from her grip. Her voice is a little hoarse because she hasn't spoken a single word in days. She has no one to talk to so there is no reason to, but the roughness to her voice shocks her a little and it sends a sharp spike to her throat.

So fighting is the only option Beca has.

Unless she flees. Simply run from her feelings and allow the pain to overcome her.

She holds her breath as her gaze drops to the ground of the city below her. It's dark but the sky is lit with stars and the city lights are glowing. It's kind of beautiful. Beca hasn't seen anything she considers 'beautiful' in a very long time – not since she left New York, so the sights surrounding her are spectacular.

Her body is overcome with the thrill of being so close to the edge – her heart is beating fast, blood pulsating through her veins at an extraordinary rate.

She reminds herself that this is what it feels like.

This is what it feels like to be alive.

There is no reason for her existence, she has no purpose and no one that cares. The name 'Beca Mitchell' doesn't mean anything to anyone, except the coffee shop across the street – the barista knows 'Mitchell's order off the top of their head.

But if she were to kill herself it would only cause more problems.

She couldn't do that to her dad, even though she hasn't seen or spoken to him in months – not since thanksgiving and that was left on an argument. But he'd feel guilty and she doesn't want that.

Beca doesn't want other people to feel guilty for her actions. The last thing she wants to do is pass on her shitty feelings to someone else. And taking her own life would do just that.

It's easier this way, not for her, but for other people. They don't have to worry about her if she puts up a front and forces a smile onto her face, but if she kills herself, they'll only blame themselves.

Beca knows nobody cares but she also knows the Bellas well enough to know that they'll feel guilty and regret not helping her out.

But Beca doesn't want help, she tells herself that she doesn't need it.

If she just continues with her life the same way she's been going about it for months then that's better for everyone, right? Just pretending that she hasn't got a problem, pretending that everything is fine.

So Beca makes up her mind. She isn't going to end it, at least not tonight.

She releases her grip on the balcony railing after taking a few steps backwards.

Her heart is slowly steadying but she still feels so high on adrenaline.

The balcony glass door closes behind her, but she doesn't bother to lock it, there's still a part of her that's sure tonight is as good as any – she's going to end it at some point, so why not tonight?

It quickly drifts from her mind when she picks up an unopened bottle of whiskey from the mantelpiece, unscrewing the lid instantly, and lifting the bottle to her lips.

This is how Beca's evenings are now – contemplate suicide then drink until she passes out.

As she slumps back onto the bed, silence runs through the apartment.

Even the clock has stopped making a noise – Beca got annoyed at the constant _T_ _ick Tock_ so she removed the batteries.

The silence is almost deafening.

It's blatantly obvious that Beca is so fucking unhappy when she can't even listen to music anymore.

Music makes her _feel_. Something that is too damn painful to experience these days, so she allows the numbness to consume her.

Maybe that's worse, but not feeling means not dwelling on the past.

Beca still thinks about it every day – how could she not? But she doesn't allow it to hurt her anymore. Some days are different, the pain manages to break through, and it physically breaks her. She's forced to feel everything at once, overwhelmed with the concoction of emotions.

On those days, Beca has to fight harder than ever, but sometimes more often than not, the pain wins. When that happens, she turns to other methods of coping – _surviving_.

Existence is simply a battle of suffering, fighting the pain until you come out stronger. But that isn't always the case – sometimes the pain wins.

So Beca does anything she can to stop (or at least prolong) the pain, giving in to the numbness that takes over her whole body. Taking away the pain means ridding Beca of her only remaining emotions, simply leaving her _empty_.

Feelings have never been her strong point, but once upon a time she allowed herself to feel – to love. The love she felt was sudden, and frightened the hell out of her at first, but she slowly let the walls around her crumble, allowing someone to step into her bubble.

But then she got it thrown back in her face, her heart shattered to pieces in the hands of Chloe Beale.


	2. Whiskey and Pop Tarts

A majority of the night and most of the morning, consisted of Beca lying still, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the fuck her life came to this.

Just two years ago she had it all – the job at a record label, a family that loved her with everything they had, a somewhat decent relationship with her father, and the one thing she had cherished more than anything: Chloe.

Beca had Chloe. The literal girl of her dreams.

After pining for the girl her entire freshman and sophomore year, Chloe was finally her girlfriend. Beca was content with her life and everything in it. So how the fuck has her life come to this?

Granted, the job at Residential Heat was only an internship, but after Beca's boss listened to her and Legacy’s collaboration, she’s pretty sure her boss was going to give her a shot at producing her own music. ‘Flashlight’ was a hit. Beca may not have had the perfect relationship with her actual family but the Bellas were her chosen family – she loved all of her girls more than they knew.

But after Copenhagen, Beca lost it all. Her internship – The Bellas – Chloe. Everything was gone. Her mind was jammed with the constant thought that she will never be as happy as she was back then. And it hurt her, knowing she could only blame herself.

After hours of being restless, she finally managed to drift off to sleep, only to be awoken two short hours later by the alarm blaring from her phone. The groan that escapes Beca's mouth is muffled by her pillow and she contemplates ignoring her alarm to simply allow sleep to consume her, but she knows that her boss will just ring her until she gets her ass out of bed and down to the station.

She's been lying in bed all day, but only fell asleep around two in the afternoon. 

Her movement is slow, but she gradually peels the blankets from her skin and her toes come into contact with her bedroom floor. A small yelp leaves her lips as her skin meets the cold flooring. In her sleep-dazed state, she completely forgot that she had to throw out her fluffy rug last week after knocking over a bottle of red wine and spilling the entire contents on it.

Beca reaches for the hem of her hooded sweatshirt and pulls the material from her body, leaving her chest bare. The clothing is tossed to the floor and she is almost certain she’ll pick it back up tonight and wear it to bed again.

The hoodie used to have a particular scent to it – the floral and sweet perfume. Beca used to think it smelled slightly of Parma violets.

Whenever she was walking the streets of LA and caught a glimpse of the familiar scent it always made her heart ache, causing her to wish she was back in the arms she loved so much. But the longer she was apart from her, the more the scent began to fade from the material, until it no longer smelled like _her_ at all.

If she hugs the sweatshirt close enough, she can still pick it up, but it's very faint and disappears after a few seconds, leaving her to wonder if it was just her mind tricking her.

As Beca enters the bathroom, she strips out of her underwear and adds them to the pile of clothes waiting for when she finally has enough energy to do a load of laundry.

The shower heats up pretty quickly so as soon as she stands under the spray, the hot water runs down her body. The water is boiling, yet it makes her shiver, goosebumps roaming her arms and legs as she leans into the spray, soaking her hair in the process.

Her fingers unconsciously slide down her hips to her outer thighs, running slowly over the multiple scars etched onto her skin.

She hasn’t cut in months, it’s probably reaching the six months mark soon and she knows she should be proud of herself, happy that she was able to get through that stage in her life and stop cutting, especially as she had no one else to support her.

But that isn’t the case. Beca isn’t proud of herself in the slightest. Just because she’s stopped cutting doesn’t mean she feels any better about herself or life in general – in fact, she is actually beginning to feel worse. Cutting is out of the picture, so now all she has is alcohol, but it’s getting to the point that even that isn’t enough for her anymore.

Beca reaches for the bottle of shampoo and squirts some into the palm of her hand, quickly applying it to her hair. After she’s washed it out, she uses the conditioner, leaving it to soak for a few minutes before rinsing out the product. She uses her coconut body wash next, using the last contents of the bottle, making a mental note to add it to the list of things she needs to buy from the store. 

She’s not even out of the shower for a minute before she locates the half empty bottle of whiskey on the bathroom counter and lifts it to her lips. The liquid burns her throat but she continues to take another gulp. 

Her outfit of the day is her typical black skinny jeans, but due to lack of clean laundry and lack of care, Beca pulls a hoodie over her head instead of her usual flannels. 

Beca returns to the bathroom and starts on her makeup. The eyeliner and mascara make her eyes darken. 

Eyeliner acts as Beca's armour. As long as it's applied right it gives her a boost of confidence, so she can fight through her insecurities and hide her true self. On her darkest days she tends to apply more, making her appearance bolder. Beca likes to appear threatening, because it's better than being seen as weak. 

But at the end of the day when her makeup is removed, her armour falls down and she's left with the real Beca Mitchell. Her insecurities are thrown back at her and she shrivels into a concoction of self hate and worthlessness. 

It's quite a lot of pressure to put on eyeliner, but these days Beca relies on anything that will give her a shield to hide behind. 

When back in the kitchen, she lifts the coffee pot from the counter, only to find it empty. With a groan she drops it back down and turns towards the kitchen table, she swings the strap of her laptop bag over her shoulder and shoves her feet into her converses. 

On her way out of her apartment she flips the light switch off and picks up her keys from the bowl. 

* * *

As soon as Beca walks through the doors of the radio station ten minutes late to her five-thirty shift, her boss walks over to her. "How's it going?" Kylo greets, smiling at her for a few seconds longer than usual which Beca notices but doesn’t question.

"Fine." She nods, then moves around him, ignoring his concerned expression.

Kylo scoffs, watching as Beca walks through the door to the kitchen area. "I don't buy that for a minute." He shouts whilst following behind her, entering the kitchen as well.

She doesn’t give a verbal response, choosing to simply shrug before she starts to fix herself a cup of coffee, continuing to ignore her boss’s eyes. The tall blonde has gotten used to Beca's short temper and constant mood changes but always finds himself stuck with what to say whenever Beca isn’t in a good mood. "Beca, are you-"

"Dude, I'm fine.” She shouts.

After a moment, her eyes drift to the floor as she picks up on her own tone. She didn’t intend on sounding so rude, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. That has been happening a lot lately, and Kylo and Felix – another person that works at the radio station – have been receiving the backlash because they are the only two people Beca really has any contact with.

Beca bows her head whilst making her way over to the booth. "Can we just get to work please?" Her tone is much softer now, not wanting to piss off Kylo any more than she usually does.

"Alright.” He nods, dismissing the subject instantly. "There are some papers for you to sign on the desk. Are you okay if you're in charge of the place? I have to leave – family emergency, so you'll be alone all night."

"Fine by me." Beca says as she settles into the chair in the booth. "Tell Cath I said hey."

The small brunette notices the way her boss’s lips curl up at the corners at the mention of his wife’s name. She wishes she could have the type of love they have someday, but she honestly believes that any chance she’s had at love she’s blown. And it’s not like she wants to fall in love with somebody when she’s still completely in love with someone else.

Kylo shoots her a warm smile before waltzing out of the booth. She watches him collect his things, shoving his phone, keys and wallet into his coat pocket before leaving out the front door.

And just like that, Beca is alone again. She knows it’s not the same, but she feels like wherever she goes people always walk away from her.

Beca brings up her left hand to rub at her temples whilst releasing a heavy sigh. She's exhausted and she wants nothing more than to go home, so she pleads that this day moves by quickly. 

She reaches for the stack of papers on her desk and flicks through them, scanning over each document before signing her name at the bottom of each page. Once every document had her signature, she filed them in the drawer of her boss' desk then headed back into the booth to get started for the evening. 

"Hey, guys. I'm Beca Mitchell."

Her intro is kept short, but she doesn't have the energy to care. 

She adds the songs requested by Kylo to the queue and relaxes back in the chair. 

After around ten minutes of songs, Beca moves sluggishly back into the kitchen for more coffee and to scavenge for food. The cupboards are mostly empty, but she manages to hunt down Felix's stash of pop tarts. Beca retrieves the pop tarts then returns the box back to it's hiding spot and makes her way back to the booth. 

She adds a collection of her own mashups to the queue, sticking strictly to the more upbeat ones rather than the mixes she makes when she's spiralling down a bad path - most of those tend to be made with Chloe in her mind. 

Beca has a small box back at her apartment with a few - probably around five - USB sticks with numerous files of mixes, original songs and playlists all created for Chloe. She has no intention of ever giving them to her but whenever Beca thinks about Chloe - which is pretty much all the time - she makes a new mix, or puts songs together that remind her of the redhead. 

If Kylo were here then Beca wouldn't be able to keep constantly leaving the booth, but she is seconds away from exploding with rage. For just over a year, Beca's anger has gotten out of control. She often can't contain her outbursts so advises people to steer clear of her when she is in a bad mood. Fortunately, there are no people around now to witness her next meltdown. 

She's out of the booth instantly, and storms towards the front door of the building. 

As soon as her back hits the wall, she lifts a cigarette to her lips and brings the lighter to the end, sparking it to life. 

She turned to alcohol when she moved to LA, and the smoking came next. She drank excessively and smoked like a chimney, but over time she has decreased her smoking habits. Now only smoking when she's seriously frustrated or in a bad mood. She tries to limit herself to one cigarette a day, but recently every day she's felt like shit so it tends to be three or four. 

A few months back she tried to stop smoking altogether but it didn't last more than a few days. She'd gotten a call from Amy about some Bellas reunion but Beca wasn't really listening to what she was saying because she was trying to control the urge to throw her phone across the room. She knew Amy had good intentions but the thought of being back with the Bellas - with Chloe - terrified her. 

Everything would have felt wrong and uncomfortable, she just couldn't sit through an entire weekend knowing everyone there hated her, so she zoned out Amy's words, as there was no chance she would attend. 

The call brought back some unwanted memories of their college years, and as soon as the call ended she lit a cigarette. 

It's been at least three months since that call and hasn't heard anything about the reunion since then so she assumes it has already happened. Without her. It only proves that they didn't even want her there in the first place. 

Beca's head slants to the side as she flicks off the access ash from the cigarette and pulls it in for another drag. 

Once she's done with it, she stubs the cigarette out and heads back into the building, fixing herself another cup of coffee before returning to the booth. 

The rest of her shift is spent mostly in the booth, playing a selection of her own mixes, then shifting it up and playing the most requested songs. She takes two more cigarette breaks and consumes an alarming amount of coffee. 

Instead of her usual outro, Beca ends the recording with "Beca out." and quickly shuts it off so it's not airing. 

She slumps back in the chair, releasing a heavy sigh, and allowing herself to take a moment to breathe. 

* * *

The drive back to her apartment complex is quick, mostly due to the fact that she has Fletcher playing from her car speakers and she's completely zoned into the music. She pulls into her designated parking space and reaches for her laptop bag as well as the bag from the convenience store containing two bottles of whiskey. 

After entering the door of her apartment, Beca drops her laptop bag onto her bed and retrieves one of the bottles from the plastic bag. She heads straight to her balcony with the bottle, picking her guitar up on the way.

She is suddenly filled with the urge to write a new 'FUCK YOU' song and doesn't want the motivation to go to waste. 

As she settles down on one of the chairs she takes a massive gulp of the whiskey, loving the warmth it brings her. But the warm feeling inside goes away within seconds, so she lifts the bottle right back to her lips and drinks some more. 

The bottle sits at her feet as she places her guitar over her lap. A loud growl erupts from Beca's stomach, reminding her that she's eaten very little today. Those pop tarts weren't very filling, especially because she's barely eaten in days. 

Instead of doing the right thing of going inside and making herself some food, Beca grips the neck of the whiskey bottle and picks it up. After another few mouthfuls of the strong alcohol, Beca sets the bottle back down again and clutches her guitar closer to her. 

Her fingers strum the guitar strings as she plays around with a few chords. 

She begins to play the chords for Bruno Mars 'Just the way you are'.

She's instantly taken back to the time she and the Bellas sang the mashup of _'Just the way you are'_ and _'Just a dream'_ back in the empty pool at Barden in Beca's freshman year. 

Back then Beca had a huge crush on Chloe, but she also had dreams and aspirations of making it in the music industry, and if anyone would have told Beca that five years from then she'd be living in LA, eighteen year old Beca would have flipped.

But twenty four year old Beca hates LA, and all she wants is for Chloe to love her again. To be in Chloe's arms for evermore. And to have her family of awesome nerds back. 

She doesn't give a shit about LA, and she gave up on her dreams to become a music producer a long time ago. 

She just wants to go home. 

Beca quickly wipes away at the fallen tears with the pads of her thumbs and blinks in attempt to stop the flow building at her tear duct. 

The guitar is clutched closer to her chest and the whiskey bottle is swooped up as she scurries inside. She swings the balcony door shut behind her and sets her guitar down back on its stand. 

She hastily approaches the kitchen cabinet and retrieves a small glass before returning to her bed. The glass is propped on the nightstand alongside the bottle and she slumps onto her bed, her face instantly being engulfed by pillows. 

After a moment of lying completely still, Beca adjusts herself so she is able to reach the nightstand without too much effort. She pours some of the whiskey into the glass and knocks it back as if it were water. 

Beca hasn't been able to find motivation for songwriting in months, she just has no inspiration anymore. 

She used to write her feelings down and turn them into song lyrics, expressing every emotion that she allowed herself to endure that day. But she hasn't got anything to say anymore because she doesn't know what she's feeling. 

What she does know, is that she's sick of living in a constant state of emptiness, of feeling nothing at all, yet being frustrated by everything. 

She clutches the empty glass in her hand until her knuckles turn white. 

Her hand swings forward in a rapid motion, the glass leaving her hand as it's forced towards the wall. The glass collides with the brick and smashes instantly, shattering shards everywhere. 

Beca slams the bottle down on the nightstand and falls back into her bed, her head crashing onto the pillow. 

It isn't long before she passes out. The alcohol definitely gave her a helping hand into a much needed sleep. 

She doesn't know how much longer she can do this for. Everyday is the same, and she's fucking sick of feeling like this every single day. 


	3. The Bellas are Back

"Who the fuck is at the fucking door?" Beca grunts aloud to her empty apartment. 

She awoke minutes earlier to someone pounding on her door, and yelling something that could only be heard in muffled words. 

Beca slides out of her bed and trudges across her apartment towards the front door. She's too tired to even think to look through the peephole before unlocking the door and swinging it open to glare at the person on the other side. 

What she didn't expect was to see her Australian friend - Fat Amy - standing in the doorway. 

"Amy?" She stares at the blonde in shock, "What are you doing here?" Her tone is cold, almost emotionless, nothing like it used to be back in Barden.

The blonde shoots Beca a small frown, noticing the obvious changes in her appearance. "Took you long enough." She says, "I've been calling you all morning." Amy doesn’t seem to notice the difference in Beca's tone, or if she does, she just ignores it.

She pushes past Beca and makes her way into her apartment leaving Beca to shut the door after her. Beca takes note of Amy's wandering eyes. Her apartment isn't exactly tidy, and she hopes that her friend won't pick up on it, because she hasn't got the energy to explain why her hygiene isn't at the top of her list of priorities anymore. Beca quickly thinks back to when she used to be roommates with the girl in the Bellas house on campus, Amy's side of the room was a constant mess, so Beca knows that Amy won't comment on the state of the unwashed dishes or use of floor-drobe. 

The small brunette sighs in defeat, knowing that whatever the reasoning is behind her friends presence, it cannot be good. "Phone's probably dead." She mumbles as she runs her hand through her hair, brushing it back with her fingers. "What time is it?"

"Five." Amy states. 

Beca's head snaps up in shock. Amy is not - at least she didn't used to be - a morning person, so what the hell is she doing awake _and_ in LA at this time?

"Why are you waking me up this early? Why are you even here? What do you want?"

Her questions are ignored. The blonde takes a seat on the couch. "You look like shit." Amy says, which makes Beca scoff - she knows she looks like shit, she fucking feels like shit too. 

"Thanks." Beca nods, and falls onto the couch beside her friend. 

Beca's eyes follow Amy's gaze which shifts between the broken glass on the floor and the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. 

"Are you drunk?"

"No." Beca snaps, way too quickly to be believable, "Quit grilling me."

Before she even registers what's happening, Amy has grabbed onto Beca's chin, forcing her face close to hers. 

"Dude, what?" Beca yells, after pulling her face out of Amy's grip. "Why do you care anyway? You used to drink all the time."

Amy nods at Beca's words. "Yes, but I'd be happy. You're drinking for another reason."

The smaller girl grunts, "Whatever."

She may not be happy, far from happy in fact, and she might be drowning her sorrows and sadness in alcohol, but who is Amy to judge her for it? She doesn't know what's been going on in Beca's life as of lately, which is because Beca has been declining phone calls and ignoring messages, but that doesn't give her the right to judge her for it. 

But instead of judgemental stares and questions full of disgust, Beca is met with a concerned expression. That in itself is strange to see on the blonde's face, but it almost makes Beca uncomfortable by the fact that it is directed at her. 

"Beca, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." She lies, simply because it's easier - easier than admitting that she isn't okay, and she hasn't been for a long time. If she admits that she's not okay then she'll be forced to explain why, she'll have to confess that she isn't happy and that she fucking hates LA. And she isn't prepared to get into that. She's pushed those thoughts deep into her mind and is not willing to dig them up any time soon. 

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here." Beca points out with no emotion in her tone. 

"Well someone had to come here." Amy says, "You haven't answered any of my messages. You could have been dead and we wouldn't have even known."

The brunette swallows, and nods her head before replying, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Things have been pretty hectic at work."

That isn't entirely a lie - Beca has been feeling extremely stressed at work lately, but that's only because her lack of sleep means she's extra frustrated and has very little patience when it comes to her colleagues. 

"Well you can clear your schedule because we're having a Bellas reunion."

_Bellas reunion._

She's instantly taken back to the phone call she had with the blonde around three months ago when Amy sprung the news of a Bellas hangout. Beca had just assumed it had already happened and it never crossed her mind that there would be more than one. Amy and Beca talked often, not every day - or even every other day - but more frequently than she did with the other Bellas - she didn't keep in touch with any of them. But Amy hasn't brought up the Bellas in conversation since the phone call, and Beca never asked about them. 

She isn't on social media anymore, she steered away from that after insta-stalking Chloe for hours which resulted in crying and lots of alcohol. Beca is restricted to only posting on tumblr - yes, _tumblr_. She feels like a sad teenager again. 

But the thought of a Bellas reunion, having to see them all again and pretend like nothing has changed, makes Beca want to punch something. Because everything _has_ changed. Beca is not the same person as she used to be, she's built up walls stronger than ever before, this time she isn't letting anyone in. 

"No." Beca says simply.

The corners of Amy's lips turn downwards, "I haven't even said much yet." She huffs. 

"You don't need to, it's not happening." Beca mutters. Her head comes to rest in her palm while she's glaring daggers at the ground. 

"Why?"

"Do you even need to ask that?" Amy's face remains blank so the smaller girl continues, "You know why. I'm not doing it."

Even just the thought of seeing the redhead again is too much. She's buried her feelings for Chloe on many occasions, but no matter what she does, they still aren't going away. It's been two years and she's still completely in love with her. 

"Are you going to be like this forever?"

_Forever._

That fucking word. 

Beca subconsciously reaches for the chain around her neck, her finger tracing it until it reaches the ring. She grips it between her thumb and forefinger, twisting it slowly. 

Silence takes over the pair as Beca doesn't respond, too consumed by her thoughts, until her phone chimes from across the room. She doesn't actually care about the notification but she isn't sitting in this awkwardness any longer.

Her phone is lying on the floor beside her bed so she picks it up, glancing at the screen in the process. 

**Dad:** I think you should go to the Bellas reunion. It would be good for you. From Dad. _(5:14 am)_

It isn't a surprise that her father is awake at this time because unlike Beca, he is easily a morning person. Beca scoffs at the fact he still doesn't know how to text even after insisting Beca showed him how to last year. Every opportunity he got, he’d ask her what a certain app was for or how to make a smiley face.

A slight smile urges at her lips. She hasn't spoken to her father since Thanksgiving, so hearing from him is kind of nice, knowing that he hasn't forgotten about her. But her expression grows, allowing her anger to become more prominent as she realises that someone must have contacted him about the reunion. Seeing as how Amy is the Bella that’s shown up at her apartment, Beca is willing to bet that Amy is the one who reached out.

"You called my dad?" Beca yells. 

Amy barely reacts to her outburst, "Beca, you've not spoken to anyone in two years and all you're doing is working at the radio station. A radio station, Beca. You did that in college, you aren’t in college anymore."

"I know that." She mutters.

She knows that she threw away her dreams and any chance of making it in the music industry, but she can't find it in her to care. 

Beca came to the realisation last year that even if she was a successful music producer, she still wouldn't be content with her life. She would still be unhappy, because without a certain redhead in her life, happiness was just a distant memory. 

"But that doesn't mean you call my Dad." Beca snaps, her anger building up inside her. 

Amy sighs heavily, forcing Beca to look in her direction, "Look, I know we've both got daddy issues but-"

"What?"

"We graduated two years ago." Amy states. 

"And?" By now, Beca is beyond frustrated with the blonde's presence, she just wants to kick her out of her apartment.

"We graduated," Amy repeats, "We won the worlds, things were looking good for you, and you just disappeared?"

She knows that there is nothing she can say that will get Amy to leave, but Beca isn't going to stop trying. "I came to LA, you know that's always been my dream." Beca shrugs, her brows creasing as she fights a yawn.

Amy stands up from the couch and walks closer to the other girl. Her tone is softer now, but that just makes Beca feel worse. She doesn't need Amy's pity or sympathy. "Beca, your dream was to make music, you just sit in a chair all day."

The brunette's jaw clenches, "Why does it matter what I do?" She spits angrily. 

Once again, Amy ignores her question, "Are you happy here?" She asks, instead.

Ever since moving to LA, Beca has tried her hardest to repress her emotions by drowning her feelings in alcohol, or burying herself in her mixes. She might not be a DJ in a well known nightclub or working at a recording studio, but she still has music in her life. Her job isn't shit and her boss isn't a huge dick, but she knows it's not enough for her. She's abandoned her dreams and simply settled. But she doesn't really care anymore. 

"Yes." Beca lies.

"I don't believe you." 

She shrugs in response, "I'm happier here." Beca says.

"You're the big BM, beca I'm saying this as your best friend, you need to get your head out of your ass because it's not a beanie or a backwards baseball cap."

The smaller girl's eyes snap open. A faint smile tugs at the corner of Beca's lips, but it's hidden by the frown that takes over. "Is that like..."

Amy's smile is big enough for the both of them. She nods quickly, "Yes, it's the gay version of what captain Posen would say. It seemed to offend Chloe so-"

Beca stops listening at the mention of Chloe, not wanting to hear what her friend is saying. Beca doesn't even know anything about Chloe's life anymore. If Chloe is dating anyone she would rather not know. She zones back into the present just as Amy is finishing up a sentence. "Now, are you going to get your shit together or am i going to have to drag your butt out of your apartment all the way to the airport?"

She knows how persistent Amy can be, which is how she knows that she doesn't exactly have a choice. Amy did fly all the way to LA to come and get her after all. 

"Is there any way out of this?" Beca asks quietly.

"I can call Posen to come get you, or you know, I'm sure Chl-"

"Okay!" Beca shouts, cutting Amy off before she can finish. "Fuck. Fine. Just give me ten minutes."

Amy grins at Beca before walking back into the tiny kitchen. Beca sighs before making her way into her bedroom. 

"Flight leaves at seven thirty." Amy yells from across the apartment. Within seconds, Beca can hear pots and pans being clashed about, but it doesn't surprise her. Amy has always been very good at making herself at home.

"Dude I can't, I'm-I'm fucking broke." Beca sputters out. 

"It's already paid for." The blonde says as she appears in the doorway. She knows there is no way that Amy can afford two direct plane tickets so someone else must have paid for them, but who? "Don't worry about it. The flight has been paid for." Amy reassures her before she pushes her onto her bed, followed by an empty suitcase. "Now, pack." 

Beca hates borrowing money from others, especially when she can't afford to pay them back straight away. 

"Did my fucking father pay?"

"Pack your bags before I have to pack them for you." Amy says, so Beca takes that as a 'yes'. Of course her father paid for the plane tickets.

"Hurry up. I'm going to make a sandwich." The blonde disappears out of the room and heads back to the kitchen. Beca figures that Amy will realise that there is no edible food in the fridge. 

Her packing isn't strategic, she just chucks whatever clothes she can find into the suitcase and leaves them unfolded. 

Before she can stop herself she reaches for the whiskey bottle on the nightstand and unscrews the lid before taking a swig of the liquid. 

Once she's satisfied enough with her packing, she ventures into the bathroom to take a shower, the whiskey in tow.

* * *

* * *

Amy scans the contents of the cabinets and finds nothing. 

It's only then that she realises how bad her friend has gotten. By the looks of her fridge she isn't eating much, and she didn't miss Beca sneaking into the bathroom with whiskey.

But she knows there isn't anything she can do right now, except bring Beca home. 

So she quickly takes her phone out of her pocket, pulling up her conversation with Aubrey Posen. 

**Amy:** Mission get Bhloe back together is a go! _(5:31 am)_

Whilst waiting for a text response, Amy clears up the broken glass in Beca's bedroom. The suitcase on the bed catches her attention, so she walks over to it and unzips it. 

She pulls open Beca's top drawer on her dresser and selects a few pieces of clothing that she deems as 'sexy underwear' as well as Beca's black bikini, then hides them at the bottom of the case before rezipping it. 

Amy vertically runs back over to the couch when she hears the bathroom door click. 

Beca walks out of the bathroom in a towel with a lit cigarette propped in between her lips.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, causing her to look away from Beca. 

**Aubrey:** The girls are arriving soon. I'll go over the plan with them. _(5:56 am)_

* * *

* * *

**Beca:** Hi Ky, would it be cool if I take the weekend off? _(12:48 pm)_

**Boss man:** Beca Mitchell's finally got a life? _(12:50 pm)_

**Beca:** Fuck off. College reunion. _(12:51 pm)_

**Boss man:** Sure, Mitchell. But promise me you'll have fun? _(12:52 pm)_

She doesn't need to be reminded to have fun. Beca is a fun person - she has fun. But she knows deep down that hasn't been true for a long time. 

Beca is about to reply when she feels a hand latch onto her wrist. She drops her phone onto her lap and looks up at Amy with narrowed eyes. 

"Quick beverage?" The blonde offers, whilst holding out a small flask. 

She goes to accept the drink but hesitates at the last second. She already feels queasy from the hangover she's nursing and the fact that the only thing she's eaten in two days is a pop tart. The flight added extra discomfort to her stomach causing her to feel like she's about to throw up any second. 

Amy shrugs, "More for me." She quickly lifts the flask to her lips and gulps down a mouthful. 

After a fifteen minute drive from the airport, the taxi pulls to a halt. The blonde immediately jumps out of the cab after paying the driver. 

But Beca doesn't exit after her. It takes her an additional three minutes to steady her breathing and reassure herself that this weekend is going to be fine, before getting out herself. She wishes she'd taken that drink from Amy whilst she had the chance. 

Two years ago Beca had made a deal with herself to keep her distance from everyone, to not get close to anyone, and that included the Bellas, even though they were her family. Now she's going against that completely and turning up to a fucking reunion just because she was too tired to argue with Amy.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" She mutters to herself, but Amy picks it up. 

"Don’t worry. It’s going to be fun." Amy hands Beca her suitcase from the trunk. 

Beca scoffs. "Our definitions of fun are very different."

"Well, your hangover tells me it's not so different." Amy replies whilst wiggling her eyebrows. 

She knows there is no way she's getting through this weekend sober, but drinking in front of people she hasn't seen in two years is not going to go well. She didn't even say goodbye to them when she left, she just disappeared from their lives. 

Beca is worried of what they think of her, she can pretend that she isn't bothered, but there is still a part of her that loves those girls. 

Ever since Amy told her about the reunion, her only thought has been seeing Chloe again. She can't be drunk in front of her, because there is no doubt that she'll do or say something she'll regret. But she also can't be sober around Chloe. That will just be too fucking hard. 

Beca can drink without getting drunk right?

Before Beca can run in either direction, Amy has secured her arm around Beca's shoulders, and is dragging her towards the house. 

"We're here, pitches!" She bellows as they approach the front door. 

Within seconds the door swings open and Beca and Amy are collided with every Bella in a group hug. As one of the smallest former Bellas, Beca is being squeezed to the point where she's struggling to breathe. 

"Hi guys." Beca says once the group has pulled apart. She tries to make her voice sound as normal as possible, even though she's freaking out at the thought of being back with The Bellas - with Chloe. 

She instantly acknowledges the lack of Chloe's presence as her eyes scan around the group, not once finding the bright blue orbs she has been longing to see. 

"You disappeared for two years and all you have to say is _'hi guys'_ come on, Beca." Aubrey says. 

_You're lucky I'm here at all_ , Beca thinks. She didn't want to show up to this, the only reason she did was because she couldn't pass up the opportunity to see her favourite redhead again. 

Amy's hand lands on the small brunette's shoulder, shaking Beca from her thoughts. "Short stack just needs to chill out." She says, "Where the drinks at?"

"In here." Stacie latches onto Beca's arm and walks her into the kitchen, the other Bellas following behind. 

After a few minutes, everyone is back in the living room with a drink - or two - in their hands.

Amy jumps up from her position on the couch, startling everyone in the process. She raises her drink and yells, "The Bellas are back."

"Well, almost." Aubrey says. 

"What do you mean?" Beca questions as she takes a look around the room. 

At first she thinks Aubrey is talking about her - how she isn't here entirely because she isn't the same person as she used to be - but then she realises what she means.

"Don't pretend like you haven't been looking for Red since you got here." Beca wants to kill Amy in that moment but she settles for a glare.

Of course she's wondering where Chloe is, it's all she's been thinking about since she arrived, but she was too scared to ask. 

The small brunette lifts her untouched beer to her lips and drains at least a third of it.

"She'll be here later." Aubrey informs without an explanation. 

That leaves Beca wondering when 'later' is. Panic surges through her as she thinks of all the possible ways this weekend could go - most of them bad. 

She downs the rest of the beer before standing up and excusing herself to get another. A couple of drink requests are thrown her way but she ignores them all. 

Instead of getting another beer from the fridge, a bottle of vodka catches her eye, and she doesn't blink twice before picking it up. She lifts the bottle to her lips and gulps down some of the clear liquid, barely grimacing as she does so. 

Beca's gaze drifts around Aubrey's kitchen and after a few seconds her eyes land on a photo frame hung up on the wall. It isn't the photo itself that caught her eye but instead the beautiful redhead captured. It's a photo of Chloe, Aubrey and Stacie but Beca is only looking at Chloe. She's smiling wide, bright eyes sparkling and laughing at something behind the camera. Even though it's not Chloe Beale in the flesh, she still takes Beca's breath away. 

"Mitchell get back out here," Stacie shouts from the other room, breaking Beca from her trance. 

She blinks the unshed tears away and exhales heavily, unaware that she was holding her breath. 

"And bring the vodka." Cynthia Rose adds.

"Amy's stripping." Jessica and Ashley yell simultaneously. 

Beca grabs two bottles of vodka from the counter and returns to the living room with her heart beating fast in her chest.

She has to admit, it is nice to be back with the Bellas, but everything feels wrong.


	4. Bathtub Banter

As Beca takes in her surroundings, she can finally admit that she may have had one too many to drink, and it's not even super late yet - _Chloe_ isn't even here yet. 

Amy is sitting beside her in the bathtub with her legs over the edge of the tub and her back against the wall. The blonde is holding a sponge in her hand that she proceeds to toss back and forth with Cynthia Rose, who is lying on the bathroom floor with her head perched up with a stack of towels as a makeshift pillow. 

Somehow both Beca and Amy fit in the tub, although it is quite a squeeze, and the brunette is way to close to another human being than her sober self would like, but she's drunk and tired and she lost all the fucks to give as soon as she downed her fourth shot of god knows what. 

She's holding a rubber duck in her own hand that lights up with all the colours of the rainbow. It reminds her of the rainbow led lights she walks passed on her way home from the night shifts at the station. They light up the entire street and are the only splash of colour in her day-to-day routine full of black and grey. 

"-for killing three-hundred fake people." Beca's eyes widen as she finally zones back into the conversation, having only caught on to the end of Cynthia Rose's words. 

"I hate fake people." Amy retorts. 

"I hate a fake bitch." Cynthia Rose mutters and tosses the sponge back to Amy with more force than she's been using previously. Her tone settles after that. "But then I started working at a recording label. Nothing fancy, but slowly moving up in the industry."

The mention of the music industry stabs at Beca's gut while simultaneously tearing at her chest. She isn't one to be jealous but she envies the hell out of Cynthia Rose right now, especially considering how Beca works in a downbeat radio station with two sweaty guys in the 'dodgy' part of LA. 

Back in college Beca had aspirations bigger and beyond working in a radio station. Her life now is actually lower than her Father's idea of what her future would look like back when she was in college. He always said that she needed to find another career path to follow - "Perhaps, Philosophy?" - and without one she'd be stuck in the gutter. He claimed that music wasn't idealistic, and her dream to become a music producer (or as he saw it: a DJ), was not realistic. 

Now Beca wishes she was a DJ. All she does all day is make coffee, talk about her boss's wife, stack CDs and records, and if she's lucky she'll get a shift in the booth. It's like being back at college all over again. 

When she does get a shot in the booth she can actually play her own mixes on the radio, (as well as the requested songs and ads), but it's a local station that practically no one listens to, maybe a few barely functioning stoners or insomniacs, but no one important. Nobody is _hearing_ her sound, and that just makes the brunette feel like a nobody. 

In LA, _Beca Mitchell_ is a nobody. Even in Seattle, where she grew up, no one knew her name. But in Barden...she's known as the captain that lead her a capella group to the world Championship and proceeded to not only bring it, but sing it to the top. Even amongst her fellow former Bellas, they all saw her as someone great, someone to admire, and she doesn't want to let them down. 

But it's hard when even she sees herself as a failure, but at least she's admitting that somewhere along the line, everything went wrong. Beca gave up on herself a long time ago, letting her dreams drift through her fingertips. But how the fuck had it come to this?

She stayed an additional three years at college than originally planned, working her butt off everyday, but for what? To just throw it all away and...settle?

Beca Mitchell was not someone that settled, nor was she someone who gave up on what she wanted. So why was that exactly what she'd done?

As her thoughts darken, her gaze drops to the bath toy in her hand, now flashing from green to blue. 

"Do you ever feel that life would be better as a duck?" Beca says, too zoned out to even know if Amy and Cynthia Rose were already talking. She doesn't wait for them to reply to her drunken talk before rambling on. "I mean, they get free food a _lot._ They do those super cool little flips in the water where their butt's sticking out. And they can quack, dude."

"Ducks are weird." Amy says, "If I could be any animal I'd be a bird. Free as the wind."

Beca thinks for a moment, nodding her head slowly as she examines Amy's words. The amount of alcohol she's consumed in the past two hours is causing her brain to lag, but Amy's words eventually register in her mind. "Wait, hold up. Ducks are birds, idiot." She twists in the tight bathtub to face the blonde, a smirk on her face. 

"But they can't fly?" Amy offers, with a challenging raise of the eyebrow. 

Cynthia Rose rises from the floor, taking a moment to stare at both the girls in the tub. "They do be flying. I learnt in flight school that ducks can fly as high as planes."

"Ducks have three eyelids." A tiny voice murmurs from Beca's left. It's so quiet that she thinks she just imagined it, but as she turns and finds Lily staring right at her, she jumps out of her skin and tumbles out of the bathtub.

"How the- wherethefuckdidyoucomefrom?" Beca stumbles out in one breath, her heart beating faster than what feels like should be possible, as if any second her heart will jump straight out of her chest.

The other girl imitates a tiny quack before standing up and disappearing effortlessly out of the bathroom without glancing back. 

Beca's chest is slowly decreasing to it's normal heart rate as she pulls herself up from the floor, using the bathtub to steady her balance. "I think I need another drink."

"Right behind you, little B." Cynthia Rose stands up after her and follows her out of the bathroom. 

"A little help guys?" Amy calls, but neither of them hear her so she's left to get herself out of the tub.

After the bathroom conversation went from weird to weirder, Beca was in urgent need of a drink. The pair made their way down the hall, where Cynthia Rose found Stacie stripping out of her jacket because her 'goodies need to breathe'. Beca made the rest of the way down the stairs by herself, only to be stopped in her tracks by the sight of red hair. 

She almost loses her footing on the step when the redhead's body tenses, and slowly begins to turn. Her stomach tightens, causing all the alcohol she's drunk to feel unsettled. The redhead, now fully facing Beca, drags her gaze up Beca's body, locking into place when their eyes meet. 

The bright orbs send rays of warmth directly to Beca's chest. Her eyes like fire on an icy day, so passionate, electrifying and blue. Neither one of them able to break away from the enchanted trance. 

_Puking right now would be even worse than both of Aubrey's cookie tossings combined._

It's that thought alone that causes her to snap her eyes away from Chloe's. There is no way she's going to throw up at the sight of her. That would be beyond humiliating and cringey, yet somewhat cliche. 

"Hi." Beca croaks. It slips passed her lips before she's even given her mouth permission to speak. She keeps her eyes focused on a patch of grey wall over Chloe's shoulder, too afraid to look into her eyes again. Beca isn't ready to see what she'd find hidden amongst them - not that she'd ever be. 

It's a moment too long before Chloe responds, but Beca can see Chloe in her peripheral vision, she's frozen in place just like the brunette. 

"Hey, Beca."

Oh, her voice! God, Beca has missed that voice. And the way her name bounced off her lips. 

Beca stills as panic begins to take over her body, the parts of her brain that cause her to speak are no longer functioning, and she begs herself to say something, anything. Even if it's just 'Hi' again. But her voice doesn't seem to be working and her eyes aren't moving. She's just staring at that stupid spot behind Chloe. She's yelling at herself to do something, to stop standing there like an idiot, but all she wants to do is run into the arms that were once her safe place. 

But Chloe isn't her safe place anymore. She hasn't been since the day they broke up and Chloe walked out of her life. 

After seconds have passed of Beca scrambling her brain back into place, she pushes herself to walk down the last few steps and away from the redhead. Away from the only person that her heart desires. 

She forces herself to not glance back at the eyes she can practically feel staring at her. Beca's feet take full control of guiding her through the kitchen and out the side door, the need for cold air having intensified the moment she laid eyes on the redhead. Her Chloe-infused mind somehow remembering to pick up her leather jacket from the back of a chair as well as a glass bottle along the way. The door comes to a close behind her and she's never been more grateful of the literal brick wall between herself and the person in possession of her heart. She just needs a minute to take a breath - something she hasn't done since locking eyes with Chloe. 

Beca finds a garden chair and edges it a little farther from the house so it's no longer visible from the kitchen window or patio door. As soon as her back hits the chair she's fumbling in her jacket pocket for her cigarettes, pulling one from the packet and lifting it straight to her lips, lighting it quickly. 

She inhales the smoke after taking her first drag, quickly followed by another before allowing her hand to come to rest on her left knee.

A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she brings the cigarette up to take a long drag, her head dizzying at the motion. She flicks the ash to the ground before reaching for the bottle with her other hand.

The liquid burns as it goes down, but she's drank so much tonight that it's a dull feeling. The alcohol only making her _more_ numb. And just like every time Beca turns to the bottle, her mind drifts to the beautiful redhead that was once the centre of her world. 

She can't let herself be hurt all over again. Beca isn't as strong as she used to be. Over the past two years she's taken a lot of hits, tearing her down, all the while building the walls around her heart higher and stronger than before. She simply doesn't know how much more she can handle. Getting close to Chloe ensures pain, and if it isn't Beca hurting then it's Chloe. Beca doesn't want to be hurt again, but she'd take a bullet to the chest if it means Chloe is able to walk out - walk away from _her_ \- without a scratch. 

So she'll stay away from the redhead, for Chloe's sake. 

She isn't alone with her thoughts for long. Before she's even half way through the cigarette, she hears the door click behind her but doesn't turn her head, knowing it wouldn't be Chloe - she isn't stupid, she knows when to leave Beca alone. And whoever is coming out here to poke their nose where it doesn't belong can fuck off. 

A chair scrapes against the floor beside her and Beca gets the sight of long toned legs in her peripheral vision. 

Stacie doesn't say a word about Beca's smoking, or about the unshed tears in her eyes. She doesn't say anything, choosing to simply sit with Beca, offering a source of comfort. 

Beca smokes the cigarette down to the filter, before flickering it into the darkness. 

"I don't know what happened with you but I'm glad you're back." Stacie's voice fills the silence. 

"I'm not back." Beca mutters, then straightens in the chair slightly, "I'm here for the weekend." She knows she should at least try to be nicer, but she hadn't expected to feel like _that_ when she saw Chloe. She was expecting words spoken with venom, and constant longing gazes. But not for her heart to come alive in her chest, beating it's way out of her body in attempt to jump to the person it's so familiar with. 

For now Stacie will just have to excuse her attitude. 

Beca can feel her eyes on her but she refuses to look at the other brunette. 

"We haven't seen you since the worlds, Beca." Stacie speaks in a softer, caring tone, but it comes across as a way you'd talk to a child, and the patronising tone somewhat agitates Beca. 

The smaller brunette sighs again, then reaches for another cigarette just so she has something to occupy her hands with.

"I know you've always been dark and mysterious but...you seem different." As soon as those words reach her ears she can't help but realise how familiar they sound, as if Stacie is an actual clone of Aubrey from their freshman year at Barden. "The smoking is...new." She adds, which causes Beca to quirk an eyebrow. 

Beca finally gives in and twists in her chair so she's looking at the taller brunette. "I've just changed, Stace. We all have."

Stacie studies Beca's features for a few seconds before relaxing back in her chair. Beca follows Stacie's gaze to the cigarette in her hand, to which Beca finds herself lifting up to offer to her. She looks at it for a moment longer before shrugging, "Eh." She reaches for the cigarette and smiles at Beca as a thanks. 

She takes back the smoke and blows it out after a few seconds, repeating the action once more before handing it back to Beca. 

"Are you okay?" Stacie asks, her eyes narrowing in concern for her friend. 

The smaller brunette inhales again, allowing the weighted question to drift through the air for a while longer. "M'fine." She says, stubbing the butt of the cigarette out before tossing it behind her. She isn't impolite, she's just slightly too intoxicated to pick the cigarette ends up right now. 

After a content silence between the two Beca makes the first move to stand up and return to the warmth of Aubrey's house. She knows that Stacie is right behind her, clutching the bottle in her hand, so she walks straight over to Amy and Cynthia Rose. They both spare a glance at her before Amy takes away the focus of attention, which Beca is more than grateful for. 

"You left me in the tub. I could have been eaten by crocodiles. It's lucky that I'm such a great wrestler."

A smile tugs at Beca's lips at her friends antics. "What's that?" She points to the drink in Amy's hand. 

"Fat Amy Juice." Amy replies confidently, then reaches behind her for another cup half filled with a colourful liquid. "Here you go." 

Although Beca grimaces at the name of Amy's alcoholic concoction, she happily accepts the drink and immediately lifts it to her lips, taking it back in three long gulps. 

"Jesus, girl." Cynthia Rose says, clearly impressed. 

Once the cup has been drained, she slams it back down on the counter, wiping her mouth with her sleeve to hide the sour expression on her face in addition to wiping any excess alcohol from her chin. "What the fuck is in that?" She questions, her grimace still prominent. 

"Bit of everything. Lily helped."

Beca makes a mental note to stay away from any drink she can't identify because that was one hell of a strong drink, and if Lily helped, not even god would know the contents. 

Even though Beca has gotten a lot better at handling her liquor, she still doesn't want to go over the top. She doesn't want to do anything stupid this weekend and fuck things up even more. She's here for two more days and then she's outta here. 

As she approaches the fridge she scans the contents and pulls out a water, deciding to try to slow things down for a while.

That is until she feels somebody behind her, then she picks up the faint peach fragrance, and the heavy, evocative scent of vanilla follows. It's intoxicating, familiar and...Chloe. 

She can't fight her heart this time, too engulfed in Chloe's scent. Beca turns, her heart speeding up before she's even facing the redhead.

Her eyes drift upwards, taking in Chloe's outfit: black heels, blue denim jeans and a black blouse with white embroidery. Beca's heart stops as her gaze finally reaches Chloe's face, and their eyes lock instantly for the second time tonight. Earlier she hadn't appreciated the sight Chloe had to offer, too preoccupied with steading her own heart, but now, standing directly in front of her, Beca drinks it in. From the curls of Chloe's gorgeous red hair, to the light eye makeup and the way her lips are curling up into that smile - that smile reserved for the one and only Beca Mitchell. 

Beca has always thought Chloe was beautiful. She first acknowledged her attractiveness at the activities fair, and from that day onwards she's never stopped appreciating her beauty. But there's something about seeing her again for the first time in two years. Her features are hitting Beca all over again, combined with her scent, creating Chloe's ambience and firing it at the small brunette. 

"Do you still like beer?" Chloe asks while holding up two beers in her hand. 

Back in college Beca was never much of a drinker, she'd drink at parties and when they'd sneak into bars, but she wasn't known to get drunk a lot of the time, unlike some of the other Bellas who lived, slept and breathed alcohol. She was also a strictly beer drinker, unless of course Amy handed her one of her 'special potions' that have only gotten stronger with time. But now, Beca practically drinks whatever she can get her hands on, the stronger the better. She doesn't even want to think about how bad that sounds. 

"Yeah." She nods and accepts the beer from Chloe. The redhead looks somewhat surprised that Beca accepted the drink, but a smile appears at her lips even so. 

Before Beca has the chance to say anything, Stacie's hand latches onto Chloe's and begins to drag her away. The redhead glances over her shoulder at the brunette, she forces a smile onto her lips which Beca hopes is enough to convince her. It seems to work because Chloe flashes her a smile before flipping her head back and following Stacie into the living room. 

She simply watches Chloe walk away from her, reminding her of the last time she was forced to watch the love of her life walk away from her. 

_Run while you still can,_ Beca thinks. _But this is Chloe._ Beca shakes her head to rid of her own thoughts. She wants to be stronger than that, Chloe broke her fucking heart, she can't forgive her that easily. 

But the truth is...this _is_ Chloe. 

The one person who her heart aches for, the only person that can put her heart back together again, but she's also the reason why it's shattered. The reason why she hasn't let anyone in her life in the last two years. The reason why she moved to LA to a shitty apartment with a shitty job. Why she feels so hopeless and lost. 

But Chloe's also the reason why she doesn't take that extra step off the balcony and why she looks both ways before crossing the road. Chloe is the reason Beca keeps going and doesn't give in to the desire to end it all. 

This is _Chloe_.

Every day that Beca has been apart from her, she has missed everything about her, from the way Chloe's favourite song changes everyday, to the way her eyes light up as soon as she wakes up, already excited for the day ahead - even before coffee. 

And at the end of the weekend on her flight back to LA, she'll hate herself if she wastes this opportunity to be with her. She knows that when their time together comes to an end it's going to intensify every ounce of pain she's felt for the last two years. But it's worth it. 

But first, she needs another drink. 

She snatches the first alcoholic drink she sees, which happens to be tequila, and pours a decent amount into a red solo cup and downs the contents. 

So much for not getting drunk. 

Amy appears in the doorway, pulls Beca over to the couch, and unfortunately, away from the alcohol, and shoves her in between herself and Chloe. 

"So, DJ, tell us about LA. Is it everything you dreamed of?" Cynthia Rose asks, which sparks the attention of every Bella, causing a silence to settle over them and every pair of eyes land on the small brunette. 

She almost wants to laugh at the use of the nickname. She is so far from being a DJ.

"It's great." Beca exclaims, yet her tone lacks enthusiasm. "LA is..." She drifts off at the sudden realisation that she doesn't know what to say. LA is Cold despite the constant warm temperatures. Everything just feels so black and grey for such a colourful city. "It's awesome, guys. My apartment isn't that big but I like the view." The last part isn't exactly a lie - the view from her small balcony is her favourite thing about her apartment. 

As she glances up, she acknowledges Stacie's small nod and Aubrey's hum of approval. Jessica and Ashley are smiling at each other. Amy is watching her closely as if she's trying to pinpoint Beca's lies, but when she comes up empty she gives in and smiles along with the others. Beca doesn't exactly know where Lily is but she's not in the room so she counts it as one less person she has to convince.

"Sweet," Cynthia Rose says from across the room.

She seems to have convinced all of the Bellas that her life in LA is everything she wanted - all except one. 

Her head tilts up slightly and within seconds her eyes find Chloe's. The bright blue eyes are accompanied by a small smile. It's not the kind of Chloe-smile that Beca got to know and love, where she'd feel so lucky to be at the receiving end of. 

Chloe used to smile with her entire face; her lips would curl at the edges, her eyes would light up and Beca would be able to tell what Chloe was feeling in that moment just by examining her smile. But now, her lips are tight and her eyes aren't crinkling at the corners. To anyone else it's probably just a normal smile, but for Chloe Beale - the girl who conveyed her emotions through every facial expression - her smile almost seems unfamiliar. 

The redhead's hand comes to rest on Beca's wrist and gives it a light squeeze before letting go. 

Physical contact has always been Chloe's thing, whether it's holding hands or cuddling on the couch, Chloe is a very touchy person. Beca used to hate that, she used to be someone who hated other people touching her and she'd flinch whenever someone put their hand on her shoulder or wrapped her in a hug.

But that was until Chloe.

When the redhead came into her life Beca struggled to keep her walls up, especially when the other girl had no concept of personal boundaries. Chloe took over with hugs that lasted too long to be considered 'Just friends' and constant hand holding whilst walking alongside each other. As much as Beca had pretended she didn't, she had grown to love Chloe's hugs, spontaneous kisses and random hand squeezes to the point where she started to crave the girl's touch more and more everyday. 

She glances down at her wrist where Chloe's hand just was, then back at the redhead to see that her smile still hadn't fell. The blue eyes flicker with something that Beca doesn't quite understand but she knows that Chloe doesn't believe her act. 

Even after two years she still can't fool Chloe. 

The redhead still manages to live in her mind rent free, and she fucking hates it. She hates that even after everything the two of them had gone through, there is still a huge Chloe-shaped hole in her heart. 

And she hates that she still loves Chloe. 

It would be so much easier if she didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally wrote something for the first time in weeks.
> 
> Fun Fact: I forgot to mute my mic on a zoom/teams call earlier and the entire class heard me shout “Fuck” because I lost my pen. 
> 
> :)


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